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Tommy does not want to be here right now.
He glances up, at the girls in front of him, with their silly little VidCon lanyards - it's a little hypocritical of him to be making fun of their lanyards - and prying eyes and reaching hands; all Tommy can bring himself to do is take one large step back. The brunette girl’s lip curls, annoyed, and she manages a glare at Tommy.
Motherfuck. Can she not take a damn hint? Tommy’s body language can speak for itself, with the way he's leaned away from the girls, the way his hands are fluttering in front of himself with his blue eyes wide in confusion. Do they need to stand so damn close- pandemic? Hello? Pull up your mask, asshat, it’s not that hard.
“Sorry,” Tommy mutters, shifting uncomfortably; there’s an itch at his nape, and he tugs his own VIP lanyard - he may or may not have fanboyed at the Tom Simons plastered across the sheet protector of the card - and he makes one of those awhhh sounds, like when he's about to call for Phil. “I’m just gonna- fuckin’- leave-”
The brown-haired girl opens her dumb mouth again, but the redhead behind her puts a hand on their friend’s shoulder- and Tommy has booked it. He makes his way past various panels with other creators- he met so many today. It was fun as shit, despite those last fans- everyone was so sweet. He got handshakes and pats on the back; with close friends he got hugs.
Quackity broke his ribs when he wrapped his arms around him, squealing like a fourteen year old girl; it took Tommy a good five minutes to get his lungs to find out how to breathe again. Sapnap’s grip on his shoulder had the strength equivalent to a professional boxer (he’s met KSI, and that bitch couldn’t compare), but the Texan’s grin made up for it. Behind the scenes, away from the eyes of their fans, Techno picked him up off his feet — and goddamn that man is tall — and pulled him into the tightest hug of his life. Tommy didn't shed a few tears, no siree, nope, never, not him.
Techno also repeated the process with Wilbur and Phil - and it felt fucking surreal.
—
Tommy looks Techno up and down, before standing closer to him, and meeting Techno in the eyes. “You're fucking- you're. Oh my god. You're-”
“I’m taller than you,” Techno says calmly, sarcastically, but his voice gives away the amusement seeping through in his voice. “I’m like 6’2, 6’3, you're 6’1.”
Tommy makes an offended noise; he can feel Wilbur staring at him in satisfaction- he's been saying forever that Tommy was adding more inches, but this just proves Wilbur’s point. He discreetly flips the brunette off, but he didn't do a good job, if Phil's cackle is to say anything.
—
Dream’s hair ruffle definitely felt very good, and the blonde called him a cat, which, you know, made Tommy bark (heh) back at him with sharp teeth. It was paired with a hug, obviously, and Tommy hid his face in the crook of Dream’s shoulder, breathing in the man’s mint cologne. (Why is Dream so much taller than him again? Dude’s at least a good two inches above). He doesn’t see anyone overly familiar for a while, before bumping into Purpled. Purpled and him did one of those fucking dude hugs - like when you grabbed each other’s hands and performed some sort of side hug on steroids. It was very American of him. 0/5 stars, wouldn't recommend.
While at the convention, Tommy gets kinda, well, excessively excited. Blood pressure runs high, buzzing in his fingertips, he's ready to bounce all over the walls - akin to the feeling just before an adrenaline-inducing vlog, or a hyped MCC. Wilbur and Phil know this version of himself well, and they're kinda highly trained in The Arts of Keeping Tommy Calm, sponsored by Tubbo Incorporated. It's usually why he's paired with one of them during an MCC purposely so they've got one rein on him during the event; specifically so he doesn't get too bossy or overwhelming in the heat of the moment. Only other person who kinda experienced it and did well at keeping him calm was Dream himself.
So, obviously, as prompted, they had a Cycle of Supervision.
Techno, Phil, and Wilbur kinda took turns watching over him like some sort of deranged pigeon, and it was a little embarrassing, but it was also kind of helpful, because he definitely had some hiding-behind-Mom’s-ankle moments. Like when a big creator came up, Tommy straightened and hid behind Wilbur’s sweater, peeking out slightly; just enough to make it not-very-obvious of what he was doing. When it was Techno’s turn, it was a huge fucking disaster, because when you pair the introverted-extravert and introverted-introvert together, you are preparing one hell of a cocktail of chaos. Groups of fans would walk up, and it was just like the movies, ‘cause Techno and Tommy would glance at each other like What the fuck are we supposed to do and they'd both mutually just shake their heads. This went on continuously, until Phil swooped in like fucking Spider-Man and saved them of their social anxiety.
Phil’s portion of watching over Tommy during their many days at VidCon… it was just a clearance version of any parent ever walking in a grocery store aisle and glancing behind themselves to make sure their six-year-old hasn't wandered off while they were looking for more noodles for Rigatoni Night. That’s it, that's all it was. The older man constantly looking around to make sure Tommy hasn't walked off to another panel, or grabbing the teen’s shoulder and steering him in the direction they needed to go.
When it wasn’t SBI? It wasn’t allowed to be Ranboo or Tubbo, like, ever, per Wilbur's own words - Them watching you? Hell no. Are you fucking kidding? You'll burn the whole building down - so it was usually Dream. Mainly since he was mentally sane, unlike Quackity or Sapnap, or, hell, George, who was attached at the hip to both Sapnap and Dream the entire time. After a while, Sap and Quackity would run off to go be with Mr. Beast and Karl, and Tommy was stuck with-
Being babysat by Dream and George, the latter finding this situation to be incredibly hilarious.
—
“It’s just so stupid,” George snorts, cupping his mouth to muffle himself with his hands, his cheeks flushing with laughing too hard. They’re in a break room, since Dream had to go take a piss, “you- we- Wil left you to be babysat- that’s so fucking funny.”
—
Yeah. Hilarious. Wanna know who's watching Tommy now? No one. Because Tommy was supposed to be with Dream while George did something with Sapnap, but Dream was tugged away by some worker there, where other fans were waiting for him. He vividly remembers glancing up in surprise, before his face tightened, meeting Dream’s green eyes, wide and frustrated. Stay right there, Tommy could read. I’ll be right back.
So, naturally, Tommy didn't listen- well, he did, but he got distracted. He went to go watch some other meet-and-greet and got pulled away by some fans. He was busy taking pictures before he got really fucking tired — he's been here today for hours, and it's the last day — and then that group of girls held him in place.
He’s trying to navigate through the convention, making sure to fluidly dodge the places that are full of people, but he rams into a strong, stocky chest before he can get any further. He’s glad it's in an area no one's residing in, closed away from the other creator’s, and Tommy manages to relax. Hands plant on his shoulders - he has a small hunch he should jolt in place, get a little spooked, but these hands don't feel intruding - and he glances up to meet the same emerald irises he saw just thirty or so minutes ago. He breathes out a sigh of relief.
“Tommy,” Dream sighs- and he can tell the taller man is grateful as well, because he sounds a bit out of breath, like he was searching for the shorter blonde. “I- uh, I’m sorry I left you, man, I-”
“Nah, it's alright,” Tommy mumbles, and he takes a chance for it- and he lands his forehead on Dream’s collarbone. It’s a simple move, but quite unbreakable. The Forehead on Collarbone Technique is a signature move Tommy performs on Wilbur, cause it always makes the man melt, before he runs a hand through Tommy's hair. The fact Dream brings up a hand and gently scratches his scalp brings a shocking zero amount of surprise to Tommy’s brain. It’s like mind drugs but better. “I ended up running off anyways.”
“You seemed a little shaken up.” The man says in reply, and Tommy tilts his head to the right as he approaches a side of his skull that’s a bit itchier, and hums appreciatively as Dream focuses on that bit of skin. “You okay?”
“Ran into some fans that were getting on my nerves,” Tommy tells him, honestly, “pricks were pissin’ me off- ‘n I’m tired and wanna go back to the hotel.”
Dream’s heart clenches. I ran into some fans that broke my boundaries, is what he translates. I was already tired but now I am even more so- can we please fucking leave. He wraps his arms around Tommy’s shoulders, like a cloak, and pulls the younger’s head from his collar to his shoulder. “I can take you to Wil?” Dream asks him, and- lord, the man’s show-white hoodie is soft. “He was finishing up a panel shift just minutes ago, and I’m pretty sure they're in the break room now- ‘cause we leave real soon. Wanna go see him?”
He nods weakly, because Wilbur would know what to do. Wilbur would take him back to the hotel - they're sharing a room together, while Techno and Phil share a room - sit on the couch while he waits for Tommy to finish his shower, and then the blonde could fall asleep in his lap. Wilbur could mess around on his phone a bit, talk to some of the others, then eventually pick Tommy up and put him in his own bed.
Tommy slumps against Dream, humming The Able Sisters, and the green-eyed man throws an arm around the kid as they walk, as if showing his protection, warding away eyes looking for something to pick apart. It didn't do much, because Tommy fucking feels the stares on his head, on his back, watching as he pulls himself further into Dream’s chest so he can escape everyone staring at him.
“God,” Dream whispers, hushed, and Tommy can just tell the man is annoyed. “they really won't mind their own fucking business, will they?”
It feels like hours before Tommy is pushed into the green room, and he blinks at the amount of people mingling in there together. He can't quite see Ranboo or Tubbo; they must've already gone home a while ago, and Tommy fucking wishes he came back with them. They could've chilled in their hotel room - the two of them are sharing one - before Wil had eventually dragged him by the collar back to their own.
Quackity sees them first, gathering everyone else’s attention in the process. “Dream! You- Tommy? I thought you left already.”
Wilbur and Phil turn simultaneously, their eyes meeting Tommy’s, and Dream ruffles his hair. “Some fans walked up to Tommy, and they weren't.. they weren't nice to him, so he ran off and found me.”
Jack frowns in concern, mirroring Niki’s face. “Are you okay? Did they touch you?”
The youngest in the room shifts uncomfortably at all the attention, and inches closer to Dream. “I’m fine. Wasn't a big deal.”
Before anyone can say anything, Wilbur sighs, waving everyone else off, snorting at the way Quackity’s face scrunches up indignantly. “Guys, move, he’s fine, I’ll walk him back to the hotel.”
Dream turns to him, “You got it from here?”
Wilbur nods, before clapping Dream on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, thank you big man.”
The blonde turns to Tommy, pulling him into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”
“Whatever,” Tommy says distantly, feigning disinterest, a smile pulling at his lips, “why would I wanna see you snot man?”
“Oh my god,” Dream mutters into Tommy’s shoulder, tightening his grip- almost protectively, “you’re even more annoying IRL, what the fuck.”
Tommy giggles, before the older man pulls away and ruffles his hair. “Alright, leave already, damn.”
Wilbur, who had been watching on fondly, his brown orbs gleaming, rolls his eyes. “Alright, man, we’re going.”
Everyone else says their goodbyes, and his hair has been tousled more times than he can count - what the fuck is it with people disheveling his hair - tugged into numerous, heart-crushing hugs. (Literally. Tommy’s heart aches- but not emotionally, it’s actually aching. Well. It is aching like that as well, because Tommy flies home tomorrow and he's gonna miss all of his stupid American friends.)
Wilbur pulls him outside, and they walk slowly on the pavement towards the hotel a few blocks down, “I’m gonna miss them.”
“Yeah?” Wilbur asks, eyes light, “Techno and Dream? Quackity, Sapnap, Ra-”
“I got it!” Tommy snorts, pushing at his shoulder so the taller wobbles, and he kicks him in the shin in retaliation.
“Mm.” He hums. “I’m gonna miss all of them, a lot. They're so fucking fun to be around, even more so face-to-face.”
“No more IRL SBI,” Wilbur mourns, whining, and he throws an arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “this day is crushing.”
“Truly.” The teen leans into his shoulder, before looking up.
Wilbur smirks at him, where Tommy can't see. “Baby brother.”
“ Hey!”
“Little child—”
“Wil!”
Yeah, it was fun. Tommy would do it again, over and over, and he's gonna miss those little shits. Chaotic as they are, Tommy doesn't wanna leave them, but he has too. The only thing he's keeping in mind is that-
He’ll see them again. He will. Tommy won't have it any other way.